Breaking Up is Hard to Do
Last night was classic. This sentence somehow reminds me that I have been meaning to give myself a nom de plume for this blog. The last blog had an excellent nom de plume, but it is retired, the character is retired. I am not up to coining a new one this morning, I don't think. But anyway, last night was classic me, regardless of what I end up calling myself here. CLASSIC, I tell you.
 
Why was last night classic, you might ask, dear reader? Well, I shall tell you posthaste. It was classic because I tried to go to bed early, but ended up tossing and turning, incredibly angry about two long gone circumstances. The first was the way my last real ex, the infamous A, fucked me over big time on the way out the door of our nearly six year partnership. The second was the way the infamous L also fucked me over a thousand ways to Sunday, throughout our entire stupid affair, which was a fucking waste of time. It is memory season, I guess, on Imbolc no less, which is supposed to be the time of *new beginnings*, but I guess a farm needs plowing first, and all kinds of dumbass shit gets turned up in the soil.
 
Re: the infamous A. Having met and fallen in love with my freshman year college roommate via Facebook, and then having visited him in his city, and then having edged me out of our partnership altogether, with me sleeping on the sofa in the living room for the entire month of February, 2017, and etc etc etc, basically just being a dumb fucking asshole, well, you know, I was angry in incendiary ways at that time, but it has largely receded. I was enraged all over again last night, ye olde delayed rage response. I have no clear idea why, except that I am in love with someone now, and we are treating each other with kindness and respect, and perhaps it is the contrast that is conjuring this weird realization of just how much I was treated like a goddamned piece of shit. It's great in the long run, as the lesson really comes home.
 
Re the infamous L. similar feelings. But mostly also angry at myself. How I let myself be used, manipulated, lied to, exploited, held on a tether, how I remained puppy like in my availability in spite of being last on L's list. How awful. Doormat city. Of course thr anger comes out directly at her, at first, but then I get honest and realize I am far more angry at myself than I am at her.
 
So I was up until about midnight, in spite of going to bed early. I developed a persistent, annoying nervous twitch in the proximal portion of the tibialis anterior muscle. Everything sort of inflamed and angry, in my body. I suppose processing my way through this, and facing it all yet again, is just part of the deal. Annoying as fuck however. Yet another reminder that it will behoove me to get into counseling again and start hitting some CoDA meetings on Zoom. Below, a beautiful but fierce Ferocactus from Baja California. Maybe my rage will transmute to beauty. Freedom from the ways I was fucked over in the past would be sweet.
 

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  1. Anne

    ❤️

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